RL Fic Exchange: Going the Distance
by AminalLuv
Summary: You can't always get everything you dream of. Some dreams are mutually exclusive.
1. Deja Vu All Over Again

**AN: This fic was written for the RL fic exchange. All the fics that are part of the exchange are clearly labeled and I highly reccomend you check out each and everyone and leave reviews. If things go well, there will be more exchanges in the future which means a resurgence of R/L fics. And who doesn't want that?**

**This is only the first chapter there are two more to come, so it doesn't end here kiddies. Look for the last two chapters tomorrow.**

This fic was written for Katie DV. Katie, I hope you enjoy your fic and it lives up to you expectations.

* * *

Strands of tiny, white lights blinked on to illuminate the living room and dining room. The Christmas lights had been down for less than a week before Logan had lugged them back out of storage and hanged them back up again. They bordered the windows and doorways, they wound up the columns that separated the two rooms and along the banister that led upstairs. They were everywhere, casting their glow upon the freshly decorated rooms, revealing a walkway of rose petals, an elegantly decorated table for two, crystal candelabras, and little candy hearts covering every free surface.

"Thanks, Honor. I never could have done all of this by myself."

"Logan, Logan, Logan…" Honor shook her head teasingly from the seat she had just taken on the sofa. "You don't have to thank me; I'm your sister. I help you because I love you—and because you promised to baby sit Jack for a week while Josh and I are in Barbados."

Logan laughed. Honor's son, Jack, could be a terror—he got that from the Huntzberger side of the family. But Logan didn't mind. He loved his nephew, and to be honest, he was actually pretty good with the kid. Add in a little help from Rory, and they were quite the team. Besides, he figured it would be good practice for when they had kids of their own.

The thought of being a father had never really crossed Logan's mind until a few years ago—at least not in a happy, loving, good kind of way. When he was growing up, family had always been something Logan had thought of as an obligation. He was expected to grow up and get married to a woman who looked good, planned parties and gave him children—a son to groom as the next CEO of the company, and a daughter who was cute and proper, and attracted a wealthy man of good breeding to enhance the family's social standing. In Logan's world, family was about business and power.

Until he met Rory and she showed him that love was real and that a family could be warm and happy. And over time, with her, he grew to want that more than he could have ever imagined. Rory Gilmore had changed his whole world, and now he couldn't imagine one without her in it. So that night, he was going to ensure he never had to.

That night, he was going to propose.

"Colin and I, however, would appreciate a nice, heartfelt thank you," a muffled, Australian voice crooned as Finn walked around the corner from the kitchen carrying a plate and fork. He patted his mouth with a napkin and smiled at the brother and sister.

"Finn, is that what I think it is?" Logan growled, trying to keep his composure as he glared at the plate in Finn's hands.

"That depends," Finn remarked, oblivious to his friend's mounting wrath. "Do you think it's a piece of that mouth-watering tiramisu you had out?"

"Finn!" Logan snapped. "Are you insane? That was for Rory!"

The Australian man glanced down at his plate then back up at his friend and shrugged. "Reporter Girl couldn't possibly eat all that cake"

Logan clenched his fists and breathed in deeply, counting to ten as he tried to reign in his anger.

"What's going on?" Colin's voice cut through Logan's mantra as he joined the rest of the group. "God damn it, Finn!" Colin screeched seeing the plate in his hand. "I'm sorry, Logan," he turned to his blond friend. "I went to the bathroom; I was only gone for a minute."

"It's not your fault," Logan replied through gritted teeth.

"We can go out and pick up another cake for you."

Logan shook his head, resigning himself to the situation. "There's no time."

"Look at it this way," Honor offered, "everyone loves a good Finn antic. She'll probably just laugh when you tell her what happened."

"Yeah, what she said," Finn chimed in. "I bring joy and laughter into people's lives. Just you watch, you'll be thanking me for this tomorrow."

Honor had a point. Logan himself could feel the amusement bubbling up and undercutting the rage he had been feeling a moment before. It was almost impossible to stay mad at Finn and his stupidity. Almost.

"Just go," Logan ordered, but he was smiling slightly. "Everything is done and Rory will be home soon."

Honor and Colin nodded in acceptance, ready to leave Logan to the special evening he had planned. Finn, however, was not so quick to comply.

"You're kicking me out?" he gasped, setting the plate down and holding his hand over his heart as though he had been truly wounded. "I'm hurt, devastated, crushed—after all I've done for you."

"Finn," Colin said, grabbing his friend by the arm. "Shut up." Colin began to lead him towards the door, but Finn broke free, and rushed back to where he had been standing to grab his tiramisu.

"Can't forget this," he said seriously, taking another large bite off the fork. He headed back towards the door where Honor and Colin were waiting for him and gathered up his things. "Thanks for the cake, Mate. Mind if I take the plate and bring it back to you tomorrow?"

Logan rolled his eyes, half out of annoyance, half out of amusement—make that three quarters annoyance and one quarter amusement—and watched as his friends piled out through the door into the snowy winter night.

* * *

Rory was bouncing with excitement as she approached the posh, Brooklyn walk up she shared with her boyfriend. She had had the most amazing day. First she had woken up to a veritable winter wonderland…the entire city coated with a fluffy layer of beautiful, white snow. The morning had started off with a bang—quite literally. She couldn't help herself—she blamed it on the snow. She wound up being late for work, but then again, so had her boss, so she had gotten away with it. She found out her article was slated for the front page in the next day's issue, and then she had gotten the phone call that gave her the most exciting news of all.

It wasn't official, but she would know more that evening. She couldn't wait to get home and share her excitement with Logan. He'd probably be a little sad, but she knew he'd be happy that she was getting such an amazing opportunity. She wondered if she should tell him right away, or wait for the call. They had told her she would hear from them by seven, which wasn't very long, and she didn't want to jinx it. It was probably better to wait and tell him officially.

She stood on the patio and shuffled through her bag looking for her keys, finally finding them in one of the side pockets behind a Starbucks card and her lipstick. Shifting her bag back on to her shoulder, she placed the key in the lock and opened the door.

It was beautiful…perfect. She especially loved the Valentine hearts strewn all over. She picked one up—"Be mine" it exclaimed—and popped it in her mouth. She was definitely having the most amazing day.

"Welcome home, Babe," her boyfriend greeted her, coming to the door to help her with her coat and bag. He gave her a chaste kiss before pulling away and revealing a big grin. "How was your day?"

"It just keeps getting better," she admitted, tossing her gloves onto a table by the front door and circling her arms around Logan's neck. "This is beautiful Logan." She gave him a kiss. "What's the occasion?"

"I need an occasion to decorate the house and make you a romantic dinner?" he asked innocently.

Rory gave him a dubious look. "Umm…yes," she laughed.

"Think about it, Ace," he coaxed, leading her into the dinning room. She stared at him in confusion. "What's today's date?"

"January 18th," she said hesitantly, still not getting what the occasion was.

"I'm hurt, Ace," Logan said, standing hands on hips.

"Oh my god," she squealed as the significance of the day suddenly dawned on her. "It's January 18th!"

"By George, I think she's got it."

"I can't believe I forgot."

"I know. Obama would be very sad to hear you didn't remember his big day. It _is_ the anniversary of his inauguration," Logan teased.

"And the anniversary of the day we got back together, you big goof." She smiled and hit him playfully in the arm. "It's so sweet that you did this."

Rory was amazed by Logan's thoughtfulness. She was usually the first one to look for an excuse to celebrate something, so she wasn't quite sure how this date had almost slipped by her.

One year. It had been one year since Rory and Logan had reunited and put the past behind them. She could still remember how heart broken she had been at her Yale graduation when Logan had walked away from her, engagement ring in hand. But what other choice had there been? She wasn't ready to get married. It wasn't that she couldn't see herself married to him _someday_, it was just that that someday was still somewhere in the hazy, undefined future. She had too many things in her life that needed sorting out before she could take that kind of step. So she had said no, and he had walked away, unable to continue on in their relationship without a commitment to forever.

She had gone on with her life the best she could. She had taken a job reporting on the Obama Presidential campaign for an online magazine. For a year and a half she traveled the country, writing about every rally and town hall meeting right up until the inauguration.

She had, of course, attended and, as it turned out, Logan had been there for the historical night too. He no longer worked in the journalism field, but he had his contacts. Things had started out awkward, segued into a blow out argument, and ended in a hotel room.

That night had been another defining moment in Rory's life; the end of one era and the beginning of another. She was starting a new job at a traditional newspaper in New York the following week. Only this time she was ready to move forward and experience life's uncertainties with the man she loved. Because if there was one thing she had learned in the year and a half they were apart, it was that there was no getting over Logan Huntzberger. She still loved him, and luckily, he still loved her. And best of all, he was moving to New York to head up the new branch of the internet company he was a partner in.

"A seat, Madaam?" he asked in his best faux French accent, pulling out her chair for her.

"Merci, Monsieur," she responded, sitting in the proffered seat and settling her napkin onto her lap. Logan pushed her chair into the table and disappeared into the kitchen to bring out the first course. He set a plate in front of her, and one across the table, before taking a seat to join her.

"Caramelized onion and feta cheese tart," he announced proudly. Rory glanced down at the plate and back up to her boyfriend.

"You made this?" she asked warily.

"Yes," he laughed.

"And it's safe to eat?"

"Hey," Logan objected.

"Well, I'm sorry, but when something seems too good to be true, it usually is, and you—my friend—seem too good to be true."

"Is that supposed to make me not be offended?"

"Did it work?" she smiled her sweetest smile at him.

"Just eat your tart." He pointed at her plate with his fork.

Rory did as she was told, and cut into the delectable appetizer sitting in front of her, popping a piece into her mouth. "Holly crap," she mumbled through a mouthful of food. "This is, like, the best thing I've ever had in my mouth."

"And I'm offended again," Logan pouted.

Rory rolled her eyes. "The best _food_ I've ever had in my mouth," she amended. "Happy?"

"Much better, thank you," Logan smirked.

"How did you learn to cook like this, and why have I never known about it?"

"I just followed the recipe," Logan replied with faux modesty, "—and Honor helped me," he admitted. "She took cooking classes while she was pregnant before deciding it was just easier to employ a chef."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Rory laughed but was cut off by the sound of ringing from her purse hanging on a hook by the door. Her eyes widened in excitement as she glanced at her watch and realized it was already 6:30. It was the call she was waiting for; the one thing needed to make her day perfect. She jumped up, pushing her seat backward and toppling it over in her excitement.

"Ignore it," Logan suggested, wondering what was so important she would interrupt their evening. "We're eating."

"I can't," Rory replied, rushing towards the bag. She reached into the side pocket and pulled out the cell, fumbling it in her excitement and accidentally hitting the "talk" button before the phone was anywhere near her face. She quickly got a hold of the device and brought it to her ear. "Rory Gilmore speaking…" she panted into the phone. "Yes, of course, how are you…wonderful to hear…uh huh…uh huh…of course, it would be my pleasure…That's amazing…yes….of course…thank you…thank you…uh huh….thank you….I'll see you then." She hung up the phone and let out a trill of excitement.

"Good news?" Rory looked up to see Logan laughing at her enthusiasm.

"I got the job," she squealed, dropping her phone on the entrance table and rushing towards him, throwing her arms around his neck from behind. Logan turned in his seat to face her, the smile on his face replaced by a look of confusion.

"I didn't know you were looking for a job," he queried. She loved her job, or at least that was what she always told him. It was a relatively small paper for New York, but she got to do a lot of big articles and she got along well with all of her colleagues and her boss. She was happy there.

"I wasn't," she admitted. "I was recruited by a head hunter. I got the call this afternoon. They asked me if I could meet them for a screen test some time this week. I was so excited I said I could meet them today if they wanted and they said today would be perfect so I went down there during my lunch and now I've got the job. It's totally short notice, I know, but they said the opening was sudden and they had to fill it immediately..."

Logan smiled at her ramble. She was cute when she was excited. He was still a bit confused though—that was the problem with her rambles. Rory-stream-of-consciousness wasn't always completely informative. "Screen test?" he asked for qualification.

Rory nodded her head enthusiastically, completely unable to keep the huge grin off her face as she responded. "For New York Nightly," she squealed again.

"New York Nightly?" he repeated, his own, already huge, smile growing.

"I'm going to be on TV," she beamed.

Logan stood up from his chair and circled his arms around her waist, spinning her in triumph. "That's amazing, Ace," he laughed, stopping only to kiss her passionately. "I always knew you were headed for amazing things."

"Oh God," Rory squealed again. "I can't believe I'm finally going to be a foreign correspondent."

Logan dropped his arms from around Rory's waist and took a tentative step back. "A what?" he asked.

"I _know_," Rory's excitement was at fever pitch and she didn't seem to notice Logan's sudden and complete lack of it.

"A foreign correspondent?"

"This is, like, a total dream come true."

"As in someone who corresponds on _foreign_ matters?"

"I can't believe this is happening." She let out a bark of gleeful laughter and did a pirouette. She was thrilled, elated…this was everything she'd always wanted. This day was truly perfect. Nothing could ruin her mood.

"Like…matters in foreign lands?" Logan's frown was deepening as Rory flung herself into his arms again. "Lands far away from here?" he mumbled, knowing she wasn't hearing a word he said.

"We need to celebrate." She looked around at the decorated room. "Well, I guess you've already got that covered," she chuckled.

"Rory," Logan pushed her gently back so he could look her in the eyes.

"What?" she asked, sobering slightly as she noted the seriousness in her boyfriend's face.

"You can't take this job," he said simply.

Rory's jaw literally dropped as her merriment morphed into anger. "I'm sorry, I didn't know I needed your permission," she snarked.

"How about my opinion?" he countered. "Did you ever even consider that?"

"I thought you'd be happy for me. I've wanted this ever since I was a kid."

"No, you wanted this _when_ you were a kid."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, just…things change Rory. When I was a kid I wanted to be a cowboy."

"That is _so_ not the same. You can't compare some stupid kid fantasy you had when you were five to the dream I've had for the last twenty years."

"And what about _our_ dream Rory?" he asked, slipping his hand into his pocket to feel the small, velvet box. "We've talked about this. We've talked about how many kids we're going to have and if we're going to buy a house in Nassau or Westchester—hell, we've _looked_ at houses. We've discussed the fact that we're going to have a fall wedding in a vineyard and honeymoon in Thailand. It wasn't just me this time…_we_ decided these things." He'd screwed up the first time around…planning a life for them in San Francisco without talking to her about it. He'd thought she'd appreciate the thought he'd put into their lives together, but then again, he'd been a stupid kid back then. He knew better this time. He knew they needed to plan their lives together together. He knew that any life altering decisions needed to be discussed and worked into _their_ lives only now _she_ was the one making life altering decisions without so much as a thought towards him. What was she thinking? Hadn't she learned anything from the disaster that was their break-up?

"We can still have that."

"When? On the eighty-four days a year you're actually in the same country as me? Are you going to _weekend_ in our _home_ and raise our kids via Skype?"

"We'll figure it out. Christiane Amanpour has a husband and son and she's the World's most famous Foreign Correspondent."

"Yeah, she got married and had a kid after working her way up at CNN for almost _twenty_ years. I love you, Rory, but I'm not waiting twenty years."

"What are you saying?" she asked warily, tears stinging at her eyes. This was supposed to be the most wonderful day of her life and she was on the verge of tears. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Logan took a deep breath, squeezing the hand in his pocket. This wasn't how this was supposed to go down. He'd wanted the night to be perfect. This was far from it, but it didn't change a thing. He had to do this. "I'm saying I want to marry you." He slowly sunk down onto one knee and pulled his hand out to show Rory the box he now held.

"Oh my God," Rory gasped as he flipped the lid to reveal the sparking diamond ring within.

"Ace, please. I love you." He looked up at her with complete and total adoration in his eyes, but Rory couldn't see that. All she could see at that moment was red. She couldn't believe the nerve of him.

"I can't believe you," she scoffed. "I can't believe you're doing this…_again_."

"What?"

"It's an ultimatum. It's an ultimatum with a ring. It's like graduation day all over again."

"Rory, no."

"Yes. You're making me choose. You want me to settle down like a good little wife or you're going to leave me."

"I never said that," he told her indignantly, standing back up again.

"You implied it."

"Why? Because I'm asking you to think about us—to put _our_ dreams first? Rory…" He took both of her hands in his but she immediately recoiled, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

"No."

"What?" he asked incredulously. This wasn't happening. She didn't really mean that.

"No."

Or maybe she did. "But…but we _talked_ about this."

"I'm not going to be manipulated into marriage, Logan."

"This isn't manipulation. I have the ring. I decorated the apartment, I made tarts, and chateaubriand and baked tiramisu. I_ planned _this. And you knew it was coming. I'm not asking you this just to keep you here."

"But in the end, that's what you want, isn't it?"

"Well of _course_ that's what I want. I'm not asking you to marry me because I hate being around you."

"God," she scoffed. "I can't believe I thought you'd changed. You're still the same Logan who can't stand not getting his way. It's just like last time. Well that's just fine. Walk away, see if I care."

"It's not like last time, Rory. I'm not going anywhere."

"No, you're right. You don't get to walk away this time. This time, _I'm_ going." She turned around to head for the door and started gathering up her things.

He stared at her, mouth agape, as she threw on her jacket and slung her purse over her shoulder. "Rory, wait…" She made a motion for the door but paused and Logan's heart stuttered in his chest with anticipation. She wasn't going to walk out on him after all.

"And you know what?" she finally asked, turning around. "I'm taking dessert with me." . It was the least she deserved after his stupid ultimatum. The wallowing would start the moment she walked out that door—she needed something chocolate-y to hold her until she made it to the convenience store down the block. She marched straight into the kitchen and grabbed the cake off the counter. "Why is there a piece missing?" she asked, looking down at the cake and then up at Logan who had followed her into the kitchen.

"Finn," Logan answered dejectedly. He stared at her, wishing there was something he could say to make her stay, but he was coming up with nothing.

"Oh." She shrugged her shoulders. She stared down at the plate for a moment, trying to find the courage to move. The pain in her chest was tangible, making it difficult to breath. The tears were threatening to fall from her eyes. She _really_ needed a piece of that cake. "Good-bye, Logan." And then, she really did walk away.


	2. Wallowing

The room looked almost exactly as it had when they'd left the night before—twinkle-y, Christmas lights still sparkling, candy hearts still littering the table tops—but there were a few differences. Colin noted that one of the chairs had been over turned, and the table still had food on it. He took a few steps into the room and Finn followed.

"It looks like they never even made it past the appetizers," Finn grinned a mischievous grin. "I told you—they probably just wore themselves out with all the crazy engagement sex."

"Rory wouldn't miss work, and she wouldn't let Logan miss it either, something's wrong," Colin insisted. He'd gotten a call from Logan's personal secretary that morning, inquiring as to Mr. Huntzberger's whereabouts. Logan was supposed to have a partners meeting at ten AM and he'd never shown. Logan wasn't answering his phone, and neither was Rory.

"I'm sure you're just over reacting," Finn supplied. "But if something did go wrong, I maintain that it had nothing to do with me eating their dessert."

Colin just closed his eyes and shook his head. When he reopened his eyes, they focused on another out of place object. "Crap," he muttered, taking a few steps closer to the object and leaning down to pick it up off the floor. He opened the tiny blue box and the sparkle of diamonds came into view. "Now do you believe me?" he asked his friend, showing him the engagement ring, still in the box.

"Okay, I _suppose_ that could be problematic," Finn acquiesced.

"Let's check the other rooms, see if either of them is here," Colin suggested. The two men made their way down the hall, peeking their heads into the bathroom and guest bedroom before reaching the closed door of the study. With a wary heart, Colin turned the knob and let the door swing open. The stench of alcohol immediately met his nose, which wrinkled up in disgust. He swept his eyes across the room and spotted a lump on the leather couch. There was a sports coat thrown over Logan's head, a couch cushion wedged between his legs, and an empty bottle of Macallan tipped over on the floor next to him.

"Logan," Colin said, nudging the lump that was his friend with his knee.

"Go away," the muffled reply came.

"No."

"Do you have scotch?"

"No," Colin admitted, lifting the coat away from Logan's face.

"Then go away." Logan snatched the coat back and used it to shield his eyes from the seemingly blinding lights.

"What happened, man?" Colin asked, grabbing a rolling desk chair and pulling it up next to the couch.

"What do you think happened?" Logan answered, giving his friend a pointed look over the hem of the jacket that was still mostly covering his face. "She said no. She's gone."

"_Again_?" Finn asked.

Colin glared at the Aussie, but Logan didn't have the energy to look reproachful. "Yes, _again_," he snarled.

"Well that's bloody rotten luck, mate."

"Go away," Logan requested again, turning over so he was facing the back of the couch and burying his face as far into the leather as he could. Maybe if he was lucky, he would suffocate himself.

"There has to be more to it than that," Colin insisted. "She was already picking out wedding invitations, there's no way she just decided she didn't want to marry you."

"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered.

"Fine," Colin sighed, pushing his chair back and standing up, "we're leaving, but I'm coming back in two hours and you better be awake, sober and showered because I'm bringing Honor with me and you know she won't be as lenient with you."

Logan just responded by grabbing the cushion from beneath his head and chucking it aimlessly in his friends' general direction.

"Already gone," Colin said, backing up towards the door again, hands held up in surrender. Once he and Finn were out of the room he shut the door and turned to his other friend. "Fuck, here we go again," he muttered.

The last time Rory and Logan had broken up, Logan had been a mess, drinking every night, and barely leaving his apartment for weeks. They'd had to take turns watching over him to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. He almost didn't even make his plane to San Francisco. Honor had actually had to personally see him across the country to make sure he followed through on the move and didn't screw up his new job before it had even started. Luckily, the change of scenery seemed to make a difference and once he was away from the constant reminder of Rory, he managed to pull his life into some semblance of order. Colin wasn't sure what it would take to get through to his friend this time.

"I call the night shift," Finn replied. "This daylight thing is killing me. I'm libel to slit my _own_ wrists if I have to watch over Mr. Depressing _and_ be up with the sun."

"Fuck," Colin repeated, "here we go again."

* * *

"Will you stop moping? I mean, it's been…what, a week already?" Rory looked up from her seat on Paris' couch and glared at her friend.

"Five days, actually," she corrected. It had been five days since she had walked out on Logan—five miserable days. She was still trying to figure out how things had gone so horribly wrong. She had been so thrilled about the amazing opportunity she was being offered, but then again, maybe that had been the problem. She was so blinded by her own excitement that she didn't stop to think about the ramifications of taking the job. She knew how much time she would spend traveling, but she never really stopped to think about how _little_ time she would spend at home. It would be like doing a long distance relationship all over again. She knew how Logan felt about long distance—it had been the reason they had broken up the first time. And it _would_ make it hard to plan a wedding and start a family. By following her dream, would she really be giving up on theirs? But she had already accepted the job, there was no going back now. Would she want to if she could? She really wasn't sure.

"Yeah well, I haven't slept in forty-eight hours, so it feels longer."

"And I'm not moping," Rory added, "I'm wallowing." She stuffed another handful of M&Ms in her mouth and collapsed back on the couch. This kind of break-up required serious wallowing.

"Whatever you call it, it's depressing," Paris countered. "Do you have any idea what all that junk food is doing to your body? Each slice of that pizza is hardening you arteries a little more. Heart disease is the number one killer of women in this country and _you_," she pointed menacingly at her friend, "have a family history. And don't even get me started on all that sugar. I hope you don't mind losing your foot to gangrene from peripheral vascular disease when you become a type II diabetic."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Do you mind not going all doctor on me right now? It's not helping." All she wanted was to wallow in peace. She should have known she'd never get that at Paris' place, but she needed somewhere close to work to stay and she figured her friend would probably be at the hospital most of the time anyhow.

"Oh, well of course, don't let my career path interfere with you moping over some guy."

"He's not just _some_ guy, Paris. He's Logan…and I'm _not_ moping." If there was one thing Rory was sure about it was that Logan _wasn't_ just some guy. He was her lobster—they were mates for life. Or at least they were supposed to be. If it wasn't meant to be for them, why would they have found their way back to each other after all that time apart?

"Right, wallowing, whatever—see how much I don't care?"

"It's just…this is supposed to be a happy time. I should be thrilled about this job, not moping around pathetically because I broke up with my boyfriend," Rory continued despite her friend's previous statement.

"I thought you were wallowing," Paris corrected.

Rory glared at her. "He should be happy for me," she continued. "And I should be happy for me. Why aren't I happy? Is it just because of the break-up, or I mean, maybe Logan's right. Maybe my dreams _have_ changed. Could he be right?"

"Don't ask me." Paris shrugged. "I'm biased. I hate the guy."

"You hate everyone," Rory reminded her.

"Exactly, I hate everyone so I would never let a guy dictate what job I take, no matter who he is."

"You're right. Why should I let anybody else dictate _my_ life? But, then again, I mean…I _am_ in a relationship…"

"Was," Paris bluntly reminded her.

Rory's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Right," she admitted. She continued on with less conviction. "I was in a relationship, a serious one. At what point does 'my life' become 'our life'? I mean, I would want him to consider me if he wanted to, I don't know, join the army or something."

Paris roared with laughter. "That pretty boy? Please, the only thing that's ever been shot at his head is a champagne cork."

"It's a hypothetical, Paris." Rory rolled her eyes.

Paris sighed. "Listen, I'll admit, you probably should have talked to him about it before just accepting a job like this, but ultimately it's your decision, Rory," The blonde girl admitted in a rare moment of compassion. "If this is what you want, he should support you and not try to tie you down with some crappy-ass proposal."

And seriously, what was up with that proposal? Rory knew he didn't _really_ mean it as an ultimatum, but it just felt like her graduation day all over again. Him asking her to give up her future for his…theirs…she wasn't sure which. She hated that feeling like she had to choose between two things she loved. If he really loved her, would he have really asked her to give up an opportunity like the one she had? Or would he have tried to find a way to make it work? Maybe he _would_ have tried to make it work if she hadn't walked out. Her head told her he would have, but she still couldn't get over the fact that he still would have wanted her to turn the job down in the first place.

God, she was so confused. Paris was right, it was her decision. The problem was, she wasn't really sure _what_ she wanted anymore. She wasn't even sure it mattered. She'd already made her choice and she didn't know how to undo it, even if she wanted to.

* * *

Logan knew how pathetic he was acting. He'd seen it in hindsight before. After the business deal he did while he was with HPG fell to pieces, he'd gone out drinking, shirked his responsibilities, fled to Las Vegas, and _she_ had hated it. She had told him what an ass he was being and when he'd finally realized just how right she was, he was utterly embarrassed by the juvenile way he'd dealt with the problem. He'd promised himself the next time something bad happened, he would man up, and deal with it instead of running from it. But then he had asked her to marry him (the first time) and she had said 'no' (the first time) and he couldn't seem to keep himself from falling even deeper into that hole than he had when it had just been business he had failed at.

He'd drunk himself into a stupor that lasted days on end. He'd holed up in his apartment playing X-Box and watching You-Tube videos of animals doing stupid tricks and generally avoiding everyone and everything. He'd been a complete and total, useless wreck. He'd been so busy trying to drown his sorrows that he'd almost thrown away the best opportunity of his life. Thank god Honor had been there to forcibly remove him to California. At least there he didn't have to think about her as much. He had a new car, a new apartment, a new job with new colleagues, and he'd been able to force himself to leave the house in the morning so that every day it got a little more bearable until he'd finally been happy again. He'd never truly stopped missing her, but he was able to have a good enough life that he didn't have to think about it most of the time.

He knew how pathetic he was acting because he'd acted that way before. He knew that he would eventually get over this—not completely, but enough to go on with his life—and when he did, he would once again be embarrassed by the way he had completely fallen apart. Logan hated that he wasn't strong enough to deal with life's cruelties in a mature and responsible way, but he wasn't. He wasn't then and he wasn't now.

The day after the second disastrous proposal, Colin had been true to his word and he'd arrived back at the apartment with Logan's sister in tow. She'd screamed at him and then proceeded to literally drag him out of the office and into the bathroom where she'd turned the shower on and thrown him in fully dressed. It was best not to piss off a Huntzberger woman—they may have looked dainty, but they were hell on wheels when they wanted to be.

It was only natural for Honor to be upset after everything Logan had put her through during the first break-up. She had been pregnant at the time and she had rescheduled doctors' visits and flown across the country just to make sure he didn't screw everything up. If anything had happened to her or the baby from the stress of it all, he never would have forgiven himself. She had put her own life on hold to help take care of him, so Logan could understand her worry this time around.

So, despite the way his life was at the moment, he at least had it in him not to put his sister through all of that again. He had it in him to at least be able to fake acting like a functional human being. After that first day, he managed to force his lazy ass out of bed each day to go into work, but once he was there, he holed up in his office with a snifter full of scotch and made sure his secretary rescheduled all meetings and handled all his calls. He sat around dazing off into space, spinning in his chair, and imagining the future. He imagined Rory suddenly turning down the job and coming back to him. He imagined her walking down the aisle bedecked in a gorgeous, white gown. He imagined her lying on the beach in Bangkok in a skimpy, string bikini. And then he imagined her dressed in army fatigues hiding out in a bomb shelter in Afghanistan. He imagined her walking through the lobby of a hotel in Jerusalem as some extremist, suicide bomber set himself off. He imagined her twenty years down the line as a prized correspondent for CNN, finally settling down with some guy who wasn't him and announcing she was pregnant with his baby. And then he'd refill his glass of scotch and swallow it whole.

At least getting out of the house made Honor think he was handling things better this time, though she still kept trying to make him talk about his feelings. What was it with girls and the need to talk about everything? Couldn't he just brood in solitary piece? Not as far as Honor was concerned. So Logan tried to call her everyday, usually after his second drink when the hangover was wearing off, but he wasn't completely pissed yet, and pretended to confide in her. This mostly left him alone in the apartment at night to pine over Rory with an even larger bottle of scotch then the one at work. He was starting to smell like he bathed in the stuff, but he didn't even care. If he thought his daytime thoughts were unsettling, his dreams were ten times more gruesome and being drunk was the only thing that stopped the nightmares.

As it was, it was Friday evening, three weeks post disastrous, special dinner, and Logan was thanking the gods it was the weekend and he didn't have to pretend so hard for a couple of days, especially since Rory was leaving for Israel on her first assignment on Sunday. He would be extra broody for a while.

He fastidiously made his way up the stoop to his walk-up—his current level of drunkenness just short of stumbling territory—only to find that his door was unlocked. He let out an agonized groan, knowing that Honor was inside waiting for him. If she saw how drunk he was just coming from work, she'd know he was lying about how he was coping. The last thing he needed was to feel guilty for disrupting his sister's life on top of all the other crappy emotions he was experiencing. He took a moment to try and sober up before pushing the door open and entering.

"Honor, what are you doing here?" he called out.

"I'm detoxifying your apartment," she replied as she appeared from the kitchen, dragging a garbage bag full of clanking bottles behind her.

Logan attempted what he hoped sounded like a light-hearted chuckle. "Is the cough medicine not working? Thought you'd try a little whiskey in Jack's bottle to put him to sleep?"

Honor stopped walking and looked up at her brother with a straight face. "That's not funny."

"No, I don't suppose it is," he sighed, his fake smile slipping away for a moment before he forced it back into place. "Then what is this, an intervention?" he teased as best he could, trying to keep the mood light and avoid the talk he knew was coming.

"No," Honor admitted, "just me this time, although if you don't shape up, one is coming, I'm sure."

"Now, _that's_ not funny, Honor," he chided.

"It wasn't meant to be," she admitted. "I've seen bars with less alcohol than this." She motioned with her free hand to the bag she held with the other. "And I've already taken the empties to the dumpster."

Logan shook his head and moved further into the apartment to take a seat on the sofa. "It's not as bad as it looks," he lied. "The guys have been over, it's not like it's been all me."

"You're not fooling anyone, Logan. I know you think you are, but you're not."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied, putting his feet up on the coffee table and laying his head back. He was feeling a bit woozy.

"Suzette said she threw away three empty bottles of Macallan just last night _and_ that you haven't left your office once all week, not even for lunch."

"Suzette has a big mouth. I pay her to be my assistant, not my mother."

"She's worried about you, Logan. Of course she's never seen you like this before so…:

"This isn't like before, Honor," Logan protested. This time it was worse, but she didn't need to know that.

Honor just rolled her eyes, obviously not believing anything her brother said. Her brother was a crappy actor. He wouldn't have fooled a fifth grader, let alone his own big sister. The mere fact that he thought he was fooling _anyone_ was testimony to just how unconnected he was to the world around him. He was living in his head, tormenting himself with a million 'what-ifs,' and letting real life pass him by. And, in less than forty-eight hours, real life would be on a plane to the mid-east and he'd be left behind in a haze of alcohol and unwashed laundry. "She's leaving the day after tomorrow, you know."

"I believe I heard that," Logan replied as nonchalantly as he could, trying not to break down in tears like a ten year old girl at the thought. He had to hold it together.

"She'll be gone for a month."

"What's your point?"

"My _point,_" Honor punctuated, resuming her walk towards the front of the apartment and opening the door, "is that you can't get her back smelling like a hobo." She tossed the garbage bag out the door and slammed it, turning to face her brother.

"I'm not getting her back. She made her choice. She's going to Israel, then probably to Iraq, and then god knows where."

"You're right, she is. And you're going to be the supportive boyfriend that she looks forward to coming home to."

"God," Logan groaned angrily, snapping his head up, "don't you get it, Honor? I'm sick of being the goddamn boyfriend. After all this time, I think I deserve a little more commitment than that."

"Well, you're never going to get it if you keep bailing. If you had just agreed to the long distance thing after her graduation, you'd _be_ married by now. But you couldn't handle that she wasn't ready, so you left, and you lost a year and half. Then, when you finally found your way back to each other, you had to start all over again. Do you want that to happen again?"

"Of course not, I don't want to lose her, I want to get _married_. And as pissed as I am that she took this job without even consulting me, and as much as I wish she would have turned it down, I'd be willing to deal with it, to work through it, if she was willing to give me just that much. But she wasn't. She said 'no'…_again_. Despite everything we'd discussed, despite everything we'd planned, once she got the opportunity for her dream job, she was willing to give it all up. She walked out on _me_, Honor. Why should I go crawling back on _my_ hands and knees?"

"Because you love her."

Logan's anger gave way back into depression and he slumped back into the sofa cushions again. "It's not enough." He shook his head sadly.

"Love is always enough," Honor said softly, crouching down in front of him and placing her hands on his knees supportively. "If you let it be."

"I don't know if I can."

"Then maybe you don't love her as much as you think you do." Honor patted him reassuringly on the leg and stood back up. "Sober up, sleep on it…hopefully, with a little clarity, you'll still find that you do." With that, she left, and Logan was left alone to pine without so much as a bottle of Nyquill to dull the pain.


	3. Reconcilliation

**AN: okay guys. Third and final chapter. I hope by then end you hate Rory a little less since she really wasn't supposed to be the villian in this. I've got Katie's prompt at the end for you so you can read it and evaluate how well I did writing this story for her. I hope it met all her expectations, and everyone elses too. Thanks for reading guys.**

* * *

Logan checked his hair for the millionth time in the hallway mirror, attempting to pat down a particularly unruly cowlick. Damn Honor and her logic. He wanted to hate Rory. He wanted to sulk and brood and blame all of his life's woes on her. But Honor was right. He loved her so he had to make this sacrifice. She was leaving in twenty-four hours. He couldn't just wait around for her to come crawling back to him. If he did, he would most likely lose the most important thing in his life—if he hadn't already. He _should_ still be passed out drunk, face first in his mattress but instead he was fully dressed and futzing over his hair like a girl. It was absurd, really, as though Rory even cared how neat his hair looked. The truth was, he was really just procrastinating, trying to build up the courage to walk out of the flat and head across the city to Paris' place. Since when was he this chicken?

With a determined nod of his head, he turned to the coat rack and shucked his jacket and scarf on, pulling his leather gloves from his pocket and slipping them on his hands. He took his keys off the entrance table.

"Hi," someone squeaked as he opened the door, bringing their hand down from its position poised to knock, and stuffing it in their pocket.

"Hi." He smirked at the girl standing before him. His nerves had suddenly seemed to vanish and he was actually feeling quite smug as Rory shuffled her feet awkwardly on the stoop. It seemed things might turn out better than he had hoped.

"Can I uh…come in?" Logan stepped aside and held up his arm in a welcoming gesture.

"Mi casa es su casa," he replied, shutting the door behind her.

Rory didn't know how to reply to that so she turned to face the stairway to the right of Logan, avoiding his gaze. "I just needed to get some stuff for my, uh, trip," she offered. "Mom will be by at some point to get the rest. I might be a little while and it looks like you were going somewhere. You don't have to wait for me. I can lock up when I'm done…unless you want me to leave the key here. Or, I mean, I could just slip it under the door when I'm done except I just realized that the doors are weather proofed so there's no space to slide the key through. Ooh, but there's the mail slot. I'll just put the key through the mail slot when I'm done. Unless you want me to keep the key to give to Mom so she can let herself in to get my stuff. Of course I understand if you'd rather be here when she comes, it is your place after all…"

"Rory," he gently stopped her. She had started off slow and stumbling but had ended up in full-on ramble mode.

"Sorry." Her face flushed in embarrassment which only made Logan smile more.

"It's okay," he laughed. "I don't want your key back."

"Right, I'll just give it to Mom then. It's alright if she just stops by?"

"No."

"What?" she asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

He stepped in front of her and threaded his hands with hers. "Generally when people 'just stop by' and remove your things from your home it's called burglary. I tend to frown upon it as do most law enforcement agents." Logan removed his hands from hers, pulling her gloves off as he did.

"Logan," she protested.

"Rory," he mocked, beginning to unbutton her jacket.

"Don't do this, please." Despite her words, she made no move to stop him.

"Do what? Take your jacket? Because personally I thought it was a very host like thing to do, especially since you said you planned to be a while." He slid the coat off her shoulders and went to hang it on the coat rack by the door. He removed his own outerwear as well.

"Pretend like everything is okay," she clarified.

"I never said everything was okay," he admitted, walking back over to her. "But I want it to be, and you do too." He placed his hands on her hips

"I just want to get my stuff." She shrugged out of his hold.

"I know you, Rory. You're, blushing, rambling, avoiding my gaze, worrying your bottom lip. You're nervous. If you just wanted your stuff back you'd be in angry, defensive mode right now."

"Well thank you for the re-cap Captain Self Absorbed," she snapped. If he wanted angry, defensive mode, she'd show him angry, defensive mode. "Did you ever stop to think I might be nervous about something other than you?"

"Like what?"

"Umm, like starting a new job tomorrow? This is major, Logan! It's my dream. What if I suck? What if I'm this huge screw up? What if I can't do it?"

"You, Rory Gilmore, are amazing when you suck."

"Logan!" She slapped him on the arm and he replied with a chuckle.

"I'm just saying…"

"Can't you take anything seriously?"

"Sorry." He pressed his lips together to squelch his laugh. She was too cute when she was indignant.

"This isn't funny, I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm hardly ever going to be home. And you; you wanted to marry me. You deserve that. You deserve the girl who will fall into your arms when you ask that question. You deserve a girl who will walk down the aisle and say 'I do'. You deserve a girl who will start a family with you and be there every step of the way."

"But I _want_ you." There was no more laughter in Logan's face. "And if you never turn out to be any of those things, I'll just have to deal because you're worth it."

"I don't want you to sacrifice all your dreams."

"They're only my dreams when you're in them, Rory. I can't just replace you with someone else. I never cared about _any_ of those things before you, and I won't care about them without you."

"Don't say that!" She was tearing up now. She really did want that future for Logan. She wanted it _with_ Logan. But she had to take this job. At the moment she was wondering how she ever could have thought it was a good idea, but she knew that when she was able to stop mourning her relationship with Logan for a moment, she'd remember all the reasons she'd wanted this. Whatever she chose, she was giving up something she cherished.

"Hey, don't cry," he soothed. He reached a hand up to thumb away the tears from her cheek.

"I'm going to miss you so much."

"I know. But you have to do this, Rory," he admitted, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry I freaked out the other night. I was just so scared of losing you…"

"Don't. Don't you dare apologize. You had every right to freak out. I totally didn't think. I was so excited when they called that I just reacted. I didn't even think about what it would mean. I'm such a self absorbed idiot that I didn't even realize that you wouldn't be just as excited as me."

"I get that, Rory. I do. You had tunnel vision, you weren't thinking. I didn't react so sanely to the news myself. I shouldn't have asked you to marry me; it put you in a horrible position of having to choose. You shouldn't have to choose. You should have everything you want."

"That _was_ pretty stupid of you," she admitted shyly.

"Yeah?" he asked teasingly. "You think so?"

She bit her lip and nodded her head with a weak smile. "But I love you anyway."

"Well that's good to know. Does that mean you retract the whole breaking up with me thing?"

Rory felt the corner of her lips quirk into a bittersweet smile. "Well, we _did_ already try that once. It didn't really work."

"I wasn't a fan," he agreed, pushing her gently into the wall. "So no breaking up?"

Rory shook her head. "No breaking up."

"Good because I really want to kiss you right now."

"I'm not stopping you."

Logan leaned in slowly, inhaling her scent. He was glad Honor had forced him to sober up for this because his Ace was a drug all her own. His lips caught hers, gently at first, but with rapidly growing need. He pressed her against the wall, pushing his own body up against hers, relishing the high that came with the first hit of that addictive substance.

He pulled away briefly to refill his lungs, but Rory wrapped her arms around his neck preventing him from going far. Once he was re-oxygenated he dipped his head down for another kiss, letting his hands wander to the hem of her jeans. He popped the button open and slid his hand down hoping to feel that she was just as excited to be back together as he was. He smirked into the kiss as his hand came in contact with lace.

"You were just here to pick up some stuff, huh?" he asked, not even bothering to remove his lips from hers as he spoke.

"Hmm?" she moaned, her mind barely able to process words.

"You're wearing those little, lacy panties I love."

"So?"

"And I bet you're also wearing the matching bra." He reached for the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head revealing a pink and purple lace number.

"Coincidence." She shrugged.

"You hate wearing those. You only put them on when you're trying to seduce me."

"Maybe I was just running low on clean underwear," she offered, "and that was one of the things I was here to pick up."

"You said the lace chafes your nipples."

"I did _not_!"

"Well you didn't use those exact words, but you did say it was itchy."

"Alright," she admitted. "So _maybe_ a little part of me kind of hoped you might get a chance to see me in my underwear," she conceded. Logan lifted his eyebrows and gave her an incredulous look. "Fine, I was here to apologize and beg you to take me back, is that what you wanted to hear?" she sighed exasperatedly. She had really been hoping she never had to admit that.

"You're very sexy when you're admitting defeat."

"I'm glad you think so." She rolled her eyes but pulled him back to her, wanting to feel his lips on hers, and to distract him from her previous admission. He happily obliged, letting his hands wander over her silky skin, down her back to her butt. He hoisted her up, letting her wrap her legs around him and began backing up with her towards the stairs. He made it to the first step and immediately stumbled, almost dropping Rory on her ass. She giggled and squirmed out of his grasp.

"Well that didn't work as well as I wanted it to."

"Getting a little out of shape there, Huntzberger?" she teased, poking at his very _in_ shape abs. "I think I detect some flab."

"Hey!" he objected. "I am a _flawless_ specimen of a man, and don't you doubt it." He reached out to pick her up again but she maneuvered out of his grasp.

"Come on," she beckoned, already half way up the stairs. Logan laughed and paused a moment more to admire her butt in the tight jeans she was wearing before following after and chasing her into their room.

He tackled her onto the bed, with her wriggling underneath him trying to get away. "Gotcha," he announced.

"Let me go," she gasped between giggles.

"Not until I've proven to you what great shape I'm in." He used one hand to support his weight as he bent his head down to meet hers, and the other one pressed into Rory's hips to still her movement.

"Well, your lung capacity is still excellent," she conceded when he'd finally broken the kiss.

"I have many excellent qualities." He moved his lips away from hers and started trailing kisses down her neck, over her chest, until he'd reached the hem of her unbuttoned jeans. He sat up slightly to grasp them in his hands and pull them down, taking her shoes off at the same time. He quickly rid himself of his own shirt and pants before lowering his body back down to hers.

He ground his hips into hers and she bucked up to meet him, groaning with pleasure. She was desperate for him. She couldn't remember the last time they had gone two weeks without making love. She wasn't sure how she was going to survive a month. What had she been thinking? She was really beginning to regret taking this job. "God I missed you," she moaned.

"Mmm." It was the closest Logan could come to agreeing at the moment, as he was far too busy in the present to be lamenting the past. His hand skimmed down her side to cup her butt, slipping underneath the lacy fabric of the boyshort underwear she still had on. "How about we get you out of this itchy lace?" He nuzzled his nose between her bra clad breasts, more than ready to have access to all of her.

"Jerk," she pouted. Even in the midst of make up sex he could still find an opportunity to tease her. He would probably never let her live down the fact that she had 'come to pick up her stuff' in sexy lingerie.

"But you love me anyway." She could feel the corners of his lips twitch up into a smirk against her skin as he slipped his hands underneath her and deftly unclipped her bra.

"God only knows why." She arched her back to help him rid her of the clothing.

"Probably because I'm good in bed." He tossed her bra to the side. "Do you want me to kiss your chafed nipples all better?" he teased, leaning down to flick his tongue against the aforementioned body parts.

"More likely because you make me breakfast in bed." She ignored his second comment and tried not to moan in pleasure at his ministrations. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. She managed to bite her tongue but her body betrayed her as her hands wound themselves into his hair to press his head down further onto her. He sucked one of her mounds into his mouth, laving her gently with his tongue. After a few minutes he switched his ministrations to the other side.

Rory couldn't take it anymore; she needed to feel him inside her. "Pants off." She steepled her knees and tried to use her feet to toe off his boxers but she wasn't quite flexible enough. Logan bit his lip trying not to laugh at how cute she was.

"Relax," he suggested, pushing her back against the bed and unwinding her legs from his waist. He sat up to dispose himself of his boxers and her of her panties. Once the final barriers between them were gone, so was Logan's restraint. In an instant he was inside of her and she gasped with pleasure at the long overdue feeling. He thrust into her again and again. Rory's head rolled back with pleasure. In what felt like no time at all, she felt herself coming to the edge and as she fell over it, all she could think of was how amazing it felt to be home.

* * *

They were snuggled up in bed, relishing the hours they had left together. Logan kept flashing back to his first trip home to her when he'd been living in London. He had had barely a day with her then, just like now. It was a life time to a Mayfly, but to him it was nothing. He knew they still needed to talk—to figure out how they were going to make this work. But the important part was that they had decided that they _were_ going to make it work. The rest could wait. Right now he just wanted to be with her.

"Maybe it's not too late," she whispered. He almost didn't hear her despite the fact that the only sound in the room was the distant hum of the radiator.

"Too late for what?" he asked.

"To turn the job down." She turned around so that she was lying on her side facing him.

Logan blinked incredulously. "Rory, you start tomorrow."

"But I don't want to leave you." She didn't. She couldn't stand the thought of leaving him. Why had she taken the stupid job? She hadn't even taken time to consider it herself, let alone discuss it with Logan. And with each moment that passed, she was regretting her decision more. Even now that she knew she and Logan were going to be okay. Especially now.

"You want to be a foreign correspondent," he reminded her.

"Not if it means losing us."

"I thought we had established that it won't."

"We may not be breaking up, but it still won't be the same."

"I'm not thrilled about us being apart either, Rory, but you have a contract—you have to go. Besides, if you stay here because of me, you'll regret it. You may even resent me for it. I won't let that happen." He could barely believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. She was offering to stay, he should be ecstatic. So why was he telling her to go? What wasn't he jumping at the chance to keep her close…to keep her safe?

But he knew why. Because he owed her this. She had made every effort to keep their relationship going when _he_ was living abroad. She had never asked him to stay; not even when he had asked her to. She had known then that London was something Logan needed to do, just like Rory needed to do this.

"I think you were right."

"That's nothing new," he teased, giving her a reassuring smile and ran his hand down her arm, entwining their fingers together. "About what in particular are you referring to?"

She chuckled softly. "About dreams. About how they change."

"Rory…"

"No, really. I just…I don't think I want this like I thought I did."

"Of course you do. You're just scared."

"But I'm not supposed to _be_ scared. I'm supposed to be excited. After we fought I thought I was just scared of being without you. I thought that once I got over the break-up that I would be just as thrilled as I was supposed to be. But I'm not, Logan. I'm _still_ scared shitless."

"Language, Gilmore," Logan chastised with a smile, trying to lighten the mood a little and ease her worry.

"What if this is all wrong? What if I hate it?"

"Well then you'll come back home when your contract is up and you'll get a different job. And you'll do it knowing that you never gave up. Knowing that you took advantage of every opportunity life handed you. The contract's only for a year, after that you can do anything. You can get a job at a newspaper again, or you can take up art, or you can retire and live a life of leisure…" Rory raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, okay, so maybe that's not so much your style, but you get my point."

She smiled. "The point is I can do anything."

"Yeah."

"I could marry you."

Logan's smile mirrored Rory's. "Now that I wouldn't say 'no' to…"

"Really?"

Logan nodded. "Really."

"Marry me…" Silence. "Logan….?"

"No."

"WHAT?" she shrieked, sitting up straight in the bed.

"God, I was kidding." He set an arm on her shoulder.

"Bad joke!"

"Sorry." He looked duly chastised. She lay back down next to him again.

"Don't do it again."

"You mean the next time a girl proposes to me?" he laughed. He threw and arm over her waist to pull her closer to him and place a kiss on her lips.

"Yeah, then." She rolled her eyes.

"So we're getting married, huh?" He fingered a lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear, letting his fingers gently caress her face.

"Looks that way," she agreed."

"Good," he replied. "So where's my ring?"

**

* * *

**

Prompt: I would love something very RL-centric, angsty (but don't do dark, and don't make any of the characters terminally ill) and humorous at the same time. If you're going to use any other characters, use them to add humor into any given situation - and I don't see how any past boyfriend or bed-friend could aide in this. A little smut will be nice, although you can also allude to it if you're not comfortable writing it. No AU/OOC. Can take place at any time you'd like - S5-S7, or post S7. End it happy. Or at least very hopeful. Since there is some angst, don't make either one of them right over the other. If anything, make it so that they're both right and wrong at the same time, then they have to find a way to meet in the middle. Cue in happy/hopeful ending.


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